


Prompto Argentum

by leonheart2012



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canon Self-Harm, Chocobros - Freeform, Episode Prompto Spoilers, Gay Prompto Argentum, Hurt/Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, I'm Sorry, Minor Cindy Aurum/Aranea Highwind, Prostitution, Self-Harm, Spoilers, With a whole lotta hurt, brief mention of eating disorder, bromances, it's sad, so much crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 05:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19457359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonheart2012/pseuds/leonheart2012
Summary: Snippets of Prompto's thoughts and feelings throughout the journey and after.I'm sorry in advance; this is really sad. Maybe one day I'll be able to write a fic that focuses on Prompto thatisn'ta tear-jerker, but today is not that day. Hope you all enjoy anyway <3





	Prompto Argentum

The first year after befriending Noctis was nerve-wracking, like constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. The first few weeks, he’d gone to sleep clutching his phone to his chest, just waiting for the day when he’d wake up to a plethora of messages on his social media accounts telling him how much of an idiot he was for ever thinking the crown prince would want _him_ as a friend, but it never happened.

As the weeks bled into months, his phone went from his bed to his bedside table, then across the room where it plugged into his charger. Slowly, it sank in that it wasn’t going to end. On his fourteenth birthday, Noct came over with Gladio and Ignis, who had baked a cake, and it was the best birthday of his life. They all took a trip to the swimming pool, and Prompto, for the first time, didn’t care about the marks of his past shape, taking his shirt off and swimming with the other boys, like he actually _belonged_.

He cried in the shower that night. Not because he was sad, but because he couldn’t hold in all his happiness. It was the first time he’d ever done that, too.

In the months after his birthday, Prompto took the time to get to know the people closest to Noct – Ignis and Gladio. They each took him under their wing in their own way.

Gladio decided he was too scrawny and tried to get him buffed up by dragging him to the royal gym and training grounds and having him lift weights and spar with the other guards.

Ignis also decided that he was too skinny and tried to feed him as many vegetables and fruits as he could. Every time he was in Ignis’ presence, he had another dish ready to serve, steaming hot and freshly prepared.

It took a while, but Prompto finally became okay enough with food that he ate whatever Ignis gave him. At first, he’d picked at everything, his mind not convinced that it wasn’t all a trick. Some days, he still struggled to get anything down, but it became easier when he saw the results; he’d put on a little bit of muscle, but nothing else. The fat didn’t come back, and he stayed at what he deemed to be an ideal weight.

As he went through yet another birthday, he began noticing things. Or rather, people. He’d always known, deep down, that he was different from his peers, but as he came into sexual maturity, it really presented itself. He liked boys, and only boys. And it was probably going to be the thing that ruined his life once and for all.

When he finally told someone about it, he had well and truly developed a crush on one of the other Crownsguards – Timmon. He was well-built, and very handsome, but Prompto had fallen in love with his smile, his laugh.

Unfortunately, Gladio noticed.

He pulled Prompto aside after a training session with a playful look in his eyes and asked Prompto a slew of questions, all designed to get him to fess up, but he stopped abruptly when Prompto started crying.

He’d been so worried that his friends would reject him for being gay that the questions spooked him. Gladio, not knowing what to do, towed him to Ignis and begged for help.

“Did anyone hit him?” Ignis asked, shooting a scowl at Gladio.

“No. I was just asking him some questions, and he-”

“What questions?”

Gladio shrugged. “If he had a crush on anyone, what their name was, if I knew them...just stuff like that.” He couldn’t help the small smile. “He’s got it bad for Timmon, you should see him, blushing whenever they’re paired up to spar, the looks...”

His comments only made Prompto cry harder. He’d thought he had hidden it well. He’d tried _so hard_ to hide it. Knowing that his efforts had been for nothing...it hurt.

Ingis and Gladio knelt next to him and placed comforting hands on his shoulders, one on either side. “Prompto...there’s nothing wrong with liking boys.” Gladio said gently, more gently than Prompto had expected was possible for him.

“Indeed. If that’s what you’re worried about, it’s okay. None of us are going to judge you for something you cannot change.” Ignis seconded.

With their words, the panic of the last few months, maybe even years, fell away. His sobs quieted, and he opened his teary eyes. “You mean it?”

“Of course.” Ignis murmured. “Do you want us to keep quiet about it?”

“Please. I...I’ll tell Noct some day. Maybe.”

He never did tell Noct. He always worried that, despite everything, he would abandon him, that it was wrong to love boys. He kept up the pretence of liking girls only for Noctis’ sake. Of course, he didn’t miss the sad looks that passed between Gladio and Ignis whenever he mentioned Cindy or Aranea, but Noct believed him when he said he held affections for them, and that was all that mattered to him.

Finally, one night, while they were making camp, Ignis pulled Prompto aside, asking him to help with cooking, while Gladio dragged Noct off to do some training.

“He’s not going to hate you, I promise.” He said with no preamble. He knew Prompto would know what he was talking about.

Prompto sniffed, begging himself not to cry. Realistically, he knew what Ignis said was true, but whenever he thought too long about telling Noct that he was gay -

He made an involuntary whimpering sound and wiped his nose, trying to hide his tears with his hands, but Ignis knew him too well for that to work anymore. His hands were strong on Prompto’s shoulders, keeping him grounded.

“I know. I know he won’t, but...” He choked out between sobs, leaning into Ignis’ touch, begging him not to let go. “I’ll tell him one day.”

“Those days might not last as long as you think.” Ignis said quietly. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the nights are getting longer. They’re getting more dangerous, too. It won’t be long before the day is gone entirely. I don’t mean to pressure you, but if he is ever to know, it must be now.”

Again, he knew Ignis was speaking the truth, but…

He went again through how it would play out. He would sit Noctis down, asking him gently to listen to him say something. He would sit there for a while, and then Noct would prompt him, urging him to speak his mind. And then he would, and then Noctis’ face would grow pale, and he would look at him in a whole new light, and he would yell at him, telling him to go, to get out of his sight-

Ignis’ fingers kneaded small circles in his back, having led him to a chair and sat him down, keeping his head between his knees in case he needed to throw up. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.

“Shh, it’s alright.” He assured him quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why don’t you go and lie down for a bit?”

“No.” Prompto mumbled, getting up and washing his hands in the water they’d boiled earlier for quick baths. “I’ll help you with dinner.”

They were almost done when Gladio and Noct came back, and Prompto didn’t miss the hopeful look in Gladio’s eyes which vanished at the slight shake of Ignis’ head. His now-sorrowful eyes found Prompto’s, and the blonde hunched his shoulders, sad that he was letting them down. He wished he wasn’t so afraid, wasn’t so ashamed, but he couldn’t help it. So he just continued stirring the pot and keeping his silence.

Ignis’ eyesight was gone, Gladio and Noct were fighting, and Prompto was even more miserable than ever. The nights were so long they lasted well into nine o’clock and the sky began to darken at five. They were camped just outside the last royal tomb they needed before they made it to Niflheim.

Prompto had almost chewed a hole through his lip, but he finally thought he maybe had the courage to say it. And then he actually looked at his friends, and his resolve sank. He pushed the noodles around in his cup and pushed the ridiculous notion aside. No one wanted to hear it now. There would be time later, when everyone wasn’t so _sad_.

He clambered to his feet, thanked Gladio for making dinner, and made his way into the tent, trying to keep his sobs to himself.

His side ached. His feet hurt. His body was screaming at him. His mind was begging him for rest.

He was lucky he’d found these warm clothes when he had; he would be long dead, buried in the snow, if it weren’t for them.

A part of him wondered whether it was really worth it, going through all this effort to stay alive, but he continued to push on. He really didn’t know why.

Snow blew into his eyes, making it hard to see where he was going, but still he trudged onward.

The wind tugged him backward, pushing against him, partly keeping him upright, partly making progress impossible, but he kept going.

Hunger twisted uncomfortably in his stomach, making him feel heavy and exhausted, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t dare stop.

 _My friends need me_ , he thought, determined to keep going, if only for their sakes.

His brain supplied images – some that he’d taken himself – of them. Of Ignis behind the wheel, a smile on his face and a can of Ebony in his grasp, of Gladio with a huge grin on his face, the wind picking up his mullet of hair and tossing it until it was windswept and messy, of Noct with one of his quiet smiles, just basking in the sunshine and the company of his friends.

He remembered meals Ignis had cooked, the look of delight on his face when one of his new recipes turned out exactly how he’d wanted it to, the disappointed frown when it wasn’t quite perfect.

He remembered Gladio’s grin after they’d won a hard-fought battle, the bemused smile he’d shoot Prompto when he’d hum to himself, happy to just be alive.

He remembered Noct’s excitement when he caught a new big fish, his joy when Ignis came up with something new to do with them, his determination and frustration when he lost one.

He stifled a whimper, the tears freezing immediately in the frigid air. He wished he was still with them. He wished he was sitting at their sides, at a campfire, or curled up in his bedroll, conjuring up some horrible nightmare.

Finally, it was too much. He fell, and lacked the strength to get up. Exhausted, he let the sobs wrack his frame as he lay, dying, in the snow.

Still not quite used to the fact that he was alive, Prompto leaned back against the hard metal of the machine and slid down it, putting his head in his hands. He should have listened to Ignis. He should have told Noct that last night they had together at the campfire. He should have told him years ago, when he told Ignis and Gladio. He should have told him even before then. As soon as he’d known.

Now, he may never get the chance. It made it hurt so much more that he was crying so much. He wanted to be stronger. He wanted to be worrying about more than just not having told his friend his sexuality. He wanted to be wondering what this place was, why he was here, why there were clones of him everywhere, but he couldn’t. His brain had shut down almost completely, with only enough room for one thought; _I should have told him_.

Aranea had told him to wait at the campsite, so wait he did. His brain had finally begun to process some of what he’d learned in the facility at the top of the hill. He looked down at his wrist, at the bar code that had haunted him since he was a child.

Self-hatred welled in his chest, and he scratched at it, rubbed at it, yelled at it, until his eyes fell on the fire. He knew what he was doing was wrong, that trying to burn it off wouldn’t accomplish anything, but he needed to _feel_ something. He reached out and grabbed the stick, looking at the glowing red tip, at the smoking, smouldering, flaming…

He was mesmerised by it for a moment, watching it pop and crackle in the cold air, dimming, growing black as it cooled. In a flash of recklessness, he brought it down on his arm, and felt...nothing - for all of two seconds before blinding pain reached him, and he screamed.

After another few seconds, he let the stick go and held a hand over his arm, hissing through his teeth at the pain, feeling the tears well up yet again.

“You didn’t think that would actually work, did you?” Aranea’s voice said from the other side of the fire, and he looked up into her face.

After his conversation with her, he felt a little better. The others were okay. They were still making their way to Niflheim. They were worried about him. _Noct_ was worried about him.

 _After everything, he still cares_.

He felt bad for doubting it, but after being pushed off the train like that, after the fighting between Noct and Gladio, after the disagreement about whether Ignis would stay with them or not…

Aranea slapped him out of his wallowing self-pity, and the next day, he decided to see it all through to the end, no matter what that would cost him.

As it turned out, he wasn’t ready for the cost. Not only did he have to worry about Ignis having lost his sight, but now they’d lost Noctis. He had been absorbed into the crystal. Ignis, Gladio and Prompto waited days, maybe even weeks at the base of it until they ran out of food supplies, but he never reemerged. They finally started to make their way out of the base, but they were swarmed by daemons. They cut through as many as they could, but they just kept on coming.

Gladio pulled them into a well-lit supply closet so they could catch their breaths.

“I’ll stay behind.” Prompto said before anyone else could offer to do the same. “I’ll draw their attention while you two-”

“No!” Gladio growled. “We’re not leaving _anyone_ behind, Prompto.” His voice broke with emotion. “I’m not losin’ anyone else. Not today.”

No one corrected him with the fact that Noctis had disappeared weeks ago. In fact, to all of them, it felt like it had been just that morning that they’d all woken up together and smiled as they packed up camp, tying their bedrolls to their packs and folding the tent, exchanging easy banter all the while.

So they fought and fought and fought until they were finally at Lestallum, where they heard the news about Hammerhead and the rest of the world before collapsing in an exhausted heap, clinging to each other, thankful that they were all alive.

It had been a long while since he’d seen either Ignis or Gladio. They’d gone their separate ways after the fall of eternal night, and hadn’t really kept in touch since. Long-distance communication was difficult now because of all the daemons, so they mostly kept to local cell service and running messengers between Lestallum and Hammerhead.

Then, Gladio stumbled through the gate, supporting a very injured traveller. “There’s another one outside.” He grunted, handing the one he was holding off to a nurse, who ushered them away to a bed. His eyes found Prompto’s, and then he collapsed.

Prompto dragged the huge man further inside, firing random shots into the crowd of daemons huddled at the edge of the lights and broke a potion over his head, hoping against hope that it wasn’t too late for it to work its magic.

Gladio didn’t stir, and Prompto’s heart sank, but he manhandled him into a bed and tucked the sheets around him. After a slight hesitation, he climbed in with him, resting his head on his chest, closing his eyes as he took comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Prompto woke sweating, his throat sore, his arms pinned to the bed and a warm, heavy weight on his chest. He opened his eyes and saw Gladio looking at him with sad eyes. He knew that look. It was the look everyone gave him when he woke from a nightmare. It was the look he gave others when _they_ woke from nightmares. It was a look of both pity and understanding, with the tinge of relief that it wasn’t them that night.

“You alright?” Gladio asked softly, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake those who had managed to sleep through Prompto’s screaming.

He flushed and nodded. “Just another nightmare.” He chuckled wetly, tasting the salt of water – whether it was tears or sweat was anyone’s guess.

Gladio nodded sadly and rolled off of him, pulling the blankets tighter around them both. “Daemons or Noctis?”

“Noctis.” He rubbed his wrists. _Was I really struggling that hard?_ “I keep dreaming that he’s drowning, all alone in there, that he’s...” He swallowed. He couldn’t say it. If Noctis was dead, all hope was lost. The night would remain everlasting, the daemons would continue to terrorise eos, children would lose their parents just as often as parents lost their children and people would suffer.

Gladio reached over and stroked his side. It was more intimate than they’d ever let themselves be before, but now that the world had ended, what was being gay? Men held each other as they cried all the time these days, gay or not. “I dream the same thing sometimes. Somehow, I’m still not used to it.”

His voice was heavy, thick. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, either. Everyone had lost something – someone.

“I never told him.” Prompto said, not elaborating, knowing Gladio would understand. “And now I might never get the chance.”

“You will.” Gladio said, and there was such conviction in his voice that Prompto almost believed it.

Almost.

When he heard news that Noctis had been spotted, Prompto’s heart leapt into his throat. He immediately went to Lestallum and collected Ignis, leaving word with Cid to send Gladio over when he came back from his job.

As they made their way back to Hammerhead, Prompto couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He gushed about everything they would do, about all the catching up they would have to do for the ten years of absence. Ignis just smiled softly and listened to him ramble.

Prompto couldn’t say anything. As soon as he saw Noctis’ face, he froze. He swallowed and blinked at the man who had become his best friend despite every possible obstacle in their way. He remembered everything he’d learned about being some genetic experiment in Niflheim, about being a clone. He remembered every single nightmare he’d had since the fall of darkness. He remembered the times before that, on the road with Noct and Ignis and Gladio, and words failed him.

Noct came over to Ignis and placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him, and Prompto’s chest started to hurt like he’d been stabbed. He couldn’t believe it. Noct was really _there_ , standing with them after ten years. He wrapped his friend up in a tight hug and didn’t let go for a good long while.

At first, Noctis seemed surprised by the affection, but then he melted into it, shuddering a sigh and leaning heavily on his friend. “I missed you so much.” He whispered into Prompto’s shoulder, which was shaking with his quiet sobs.

Finally, Gladio clapped them both on the back. “Okay. That’s enough of that.” Prompto looked up and could swear he saw tears shining in his eyes. “We’ve got stuff to do.”

They sat around the campfire, holding their cups of coffee close. It was a rare commodity these days, and only instant was available, but it was treasured as a remnant of a past almost forgotten.

The fire crackled between them, the rest of the night’s sounds loud over the silence they shared. Noctis was the first to say his piece, thanking them and calling them brothers, then Gladio stood and told about how much he’d missed everyone – not just Noct, but Ignis and Prompto, too. Ignis went next, telling a tale of when he’d first met Noctis, and then Gladio, and finally Prompto, and they all cried even more, remembering the innocence of those days.

Finally, it was Prompto’s turn and, despite his earlier ramblings, his throat dried and closed on any words he might have shared. He knew. He knew this would be his only chance.

He shifted in his chair and put his coffee mug down, then picked it up again, took a sip, fidgeted. Gladio caught his eye and gave him an encouraging smile, and suddenly, he could do it.

Years of fear and self-loathing burst, leaving a vacuum where the bubble of emotions had blocked his airway, and it slipped out.

“I’m gay.” As the words passed his lips, he realised he’d never actually said them aloud to anyone. Not even Gladio or Ignis. Sure, they _knew_ , but he’d never actually said the word ‘gay’. He’d been afraid of it, running from his feelings, from the word that personified them. Just to reassure himself that it was real, he said it again. “I’m gay.”

The tension left his shoulders, and Ignis reached out for his arm, squeezing it when it was placed in his grasp. Gladio smiled at him again, but proudly this time, and Prompto had the sudden thought that it was silly, that he’d waited this long. Of course nothing bad would happen – it was _Noctis_. He looked over, and saw him with a huge grin on his face.

“Thank you for telling me, Prompto. I just wish we had more time.”

He swallowed, tears brimming in his eyes. “Me too.”

Noctis came over and gave him another hug, this one lasting a lot less time than the last one. “You’ll be alright, Prompto. I know you’ll find someone really good for you. I’m happy for you.” He said it sincerely but with a tinge of sadness. Prompto understood why; he wouldn’t be there. They all knew that there was a price to pay for lifting the veil of darkness, and that price could be paid only one way.

Ignis was then at his side, his hand pressing between his shoulder blades as he quietly congratulated Prompto on finally coming out. Gladio followed suit, and Prompto couldn’t help one final round of tears. Never before had he felt so accepted, so loved. _And the world’s falling apart around us._

Prompto couldn’t hold back the tears. When they walked into the throne room, they all knew what they were going to see. They’d all done their best to prepare themselves for the sight, or in Ignis’ case, the knowledge, of Noctis’ death. But when he saw his best friend slumped in the throne that he was still too small for, a sword thrust through his chest, Prompto couldn’t handle the pain.

He fell to his knees just inside the door, tripping up Ignis, and sobbed until his eyes and chest and throat hurt. Ignis reached out to him blindly and placed his hand on his shoulder, a quiet comfort that Prompto was endlessly grateful for. Gladiolus stood stone still, the slight shaking of his shoulders the only sign he was affected by this at all.

Finally, his hand descended onto Prompto’s other shoulder. “Prom-” His voice broke. “Prompto, we need...need to get him down.”

He rubbed his eyes and nodded, standing and following Gladiolus as he trudged up the stairs and gripped the hilt of the sword, grunting as he dragged it free. Prompto rushed forward to hold Noctis’ body up before it fell to the floor, wrapping his arms around his already cold torso, just holding him until Gladiolus came back and relieved him of that burden, lifting his former charge up with ease.

The first few rays of sunshine filtered in through the abating darkness, and Prompto stifled another sob. Noctis looked so pale, so _lifeless_. It hurt. It hurt more than the knowledge of it, because Noctis had always been so kind, so vibrant, so cheeky and _alive_.

“Prompto,” prodded Gladiolus softly, “we have to keep moving.” In his voice was an apology. He knew what he was asking was a lot, but he was right. Prompto needed to carry his share of the burden. He picked up the sword that had been in Noctis’ chest and nodded.

“I’m ready.”

They descended the stairs together and collected Ignis, who was just as composed as always. All three of them walked their way out of the Citadel and to the car they had borrowed from Cindy, piling in. Prompto drove while Gladiolus kept holding Noctis’ lifeless body. Finally, after what felt like forever, they arrived in Hammerhead.

Talcott raced out first, followed closely by Cindy and the rest of the survivors. They all took one look at their faces and knew.

“I’m so sorry.” Talcot said softly. Iris came and gave Prompto a hug before doing the same to Ignis.

After everyone had expressed some form of sentiment, they allowed them to get on with the burial process. Part of them all wanted to broadcast the burial to the whole of eos, while the other part wanted to keep it a private event. Without any real way of doing the former, they satisfied themselves with the latter option.

Ignis cleaned Noctis with Iris and Taclott while Gladiolus and Prompto dug the grave, right next to Hammerhead, closest to Takka’s Pit Stop. The man himself had been lost many years ago, but the restaurant held as many happy memories as it was possible to hold in a world where it was constantly dark and overrun by daemons. Babies had been born, friends had recovered from injuries, people had played board games and cards to pass the time, children had taken their first steps, said their first words, people had fallen in love, gotten married. Despite the never-ending night, humanity continued.

When everything was finally done, Cindy called everyone back inside to hold a small ceremony for him. Ignis, Gladiolus and Prompto all stayed silent; they had run out of words to say.

Aranea showed up not too long after the burial. Gladiolus found her standing at his grave, a hand on the headstone.

“So he really did it.” She sighed and turned to face him. “Where’s the kid?”

“Prompto?”

“Yeah.”

“Still inside.”

“Thanks. I’ll find him.” She stalked off and into the makeshift living quarters that had been built after the night had fallen. Gladio watched her go with a strange feeling, wondering how she felt about everything. He shrugged and turned away, looking back to Noctis' grave. It wasn't his business anyway.

Prompto woke when warm hands shook his shoulders softly. He blinked his eyes open and saw Aranea.

“What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to check you’re doing okay, kid.”

He sat up properly and wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s strange. These past ten years, I felt like I’d been mourning him. I didn’t want him to be gone, but he _was_ , so I grieved him then. I thought...before I saw him on that throne-” His voice broke, and he had to stop for a moment. “That I would be okay. That seeing him _actually_ dead would be nothing to just not having him there for ten years. But I was wrong. So, so wrong. Because even if it didn’t feel like it, for those ten years, I held out hope, that he would come back, that we’d walk off into the sunset again and we’d all be okay. I mean, I’m almost thirty, but it feels like I’ve just been...standing still for these past ten years. Like I’m still waiting for my eighteenth birthday to come around so I can celebrate it with my best friend – get drunk and laid, wake up with the worst hangovers...”

Her gaze was steady, but light. She didn’t expect anything more than what she’d encountered; a broken young man in an older man’s body. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “It’ll get better.” Slowly, she leaned down and kissed him, her lips lingering. “I have to go, but I’ll see you later, shortcake.”

She left before he could protest the kiss, before he could tell her he wasn’t interested in her like that. He was just left staring at her back.

The man above him finished, thrusting one last time before pulling out and rolling over. Prompto was still hard, but he didn’t mind. He tucked himself back into his trousers and left without another word. He didn’t remember his name – he didn’t remember any of their names. It was just one after another; no dates, no kisses, no holding hands, just sex.

As he left, the man handed him two thousand gil and grunted his thanks for an evening well-spent. Prompto tried to tell himself that he didn’t care, forcing the hollowness aside. He was getting exactly what he wanted; sex with men. Society in general wasn’t particularly kind to people like himself, and it didn’t help that the woman in power had decided to tell people it was wrong, and that meant that every one of his clients hired him to be discreet.

He sighed and made his way to the next client, who was a new one. They’d texted him a few days ago, asking him to come to an upper class restaurant, dressed nicely. He slipped into a public restroom and changed quickly and efficiently, smoothing his hair back and washing his face. He’d shaved specifically for this ‘date’, in line with the man’s instructions.

Finally, he was ready, and he exited the restroom and continued on to the restaurant. He made his way up the street to where it was and stopped short. He remembered this restaurant. It was the restaurant Noctis had taken him just before they’d left, along with Ignis and Gladio. Of course, it had been redecorated and reconstructed, but it had the same name and was in the same place.

Swallowing, he entered the restaurant and looked for the table he had been instructed to go to, and stopped short again. It was Ignis. His face flushed in embarrassment. He had never meant for his former friends to find out about what he did for a living – and they were very much former. While Prompto missed them dearly, the sight of them made him think of Noctis, and it was simply too painful. He started to turn away, but Ignis reached out and gripped his arm.

His grip was firm and steady, but that’s not what made Prompto pause. He hadn’t fumbled, not even for a second.

“I-Iggy?”

“Prompto.” Ignis replied, his voice soft. “Sit, please?”

Slowly, Prompto turned back and slid into the chair. Ignis reached up and removed his glasses. Behind them were two perfect eyes, but they weren’t the old green; they were a deep, dark brown, so dark they were almost black.

“The doctors told me they had perfected a surgery to replace my eyes. They’re not quite what I had hoped for; the ring burned out more than just the nerves and cones. But they work. I can see again. Which is why I decided to finally find you again.”

Prompto could feel the tears slipping down his face. The hollowness had gone, replaced with something so much more painful. Seeing Ignis had reminded him of everything he’d been missing. He missed Gladio and Ignis; he missed their playful banter, missed the comfort of having them at his side, missed knowing exactly what they were thinking without having to ask, missed Ignis’ cooking, missed Gladio’s constant nagging to train, missed the warm nights by the fire, missed the even warmer nights tucked into a hotel bed, the sound of their breathing lulling him off to sleep. But more than anything, he missed Noctis.

Covering his face with his hands, he broke. Every man he had been under, every night spent lying awake, every day spent hollow caught up with him at once, and the tears he’d been denying himself spilled over.

Ignis’ warm hand on his shoulder led him out of the restaurant, the cool air of the night hitting his face. They walked around for a while, Ignis speaking softly and rubbing his back. Finally, they came to the place where Ignis was staying, and Ignis asked him if he was ready to see Gladiolus, who was waiting for them up in the apartment.

Prompto really didn't think he was, but he steeled himself, forced himself to nod and put one foot in front of the other as he trudged up the stairs. When he actually saw him, though, all the tension melted away. His mouth stretched into a smile and he beamed at the older man, rushing over and pulling him into a rough embrace.

"Gods, I missed you." He said softly, his voice quavering. "Both of you."

"Missed you too, Blondie." Gladio said, shoving his shoulder lightly.

They spent the rest of the night just talking, catching up on everything they'd missed. Prompto steered clear of topics relating to relationships or work, Gladio was touchy about his wife, who had died recently, but spoke proudly of his two children, both of whom were being cared for by Iris at that moment, and Ignis talked less about cooking than ever before, even going so far as to actively avoid questions about the subject.

After hours and hours, they were all exhausted, and left to sleep in the hotel's beds.

Three weeks later, they had finally had their way down to Hammerhead. Cindy smiled at them and waved enthusiastically, introducing them to her new hand, Stimis.

"He's a good kid." She said, ruffling his hair. "Go and tell Talcott they're here."

He brushed her off, but was blushing furiously as he ran to the house out back.

"You're together?" Gladio asked, raising an eyebrow. "Seems kinda young."

"Talcott or Stimis?" She asked, squinting, then laughed. "Nah, I'm not dating anyone. But Aranea comes around every now and then for a...chat. Besides, Stimis is legally my kid, now. He was one of the leftover refugees after everything brightened up again. Parents had died, along with his siblings. Felt sorry for 'im, so I gave him a job. He's good with the cars. Really gets 'em."

Talcott came around the corner, following Stimis, a huge grin on his face. He clapped each of them on the back and extended a warm welcome. "So how have you guys been?"

This was the part where they all fell silent. Prompto didn't want to tell them just how empty he'd been feeling, and he certainly didn't want to share what he did for a living. He knew Gladio was reluctant to speak about his wife, as she'd only passed in the last few months. Ignis...well, he'd never really been one for sharing his personal life at the best of times.

The silence stretched on until Gladio finally cleared his throat. "Sorry, but we kinda came mostly for...for Noct."

"Oh, right." Talcott said, his voice heavy. "Of course. Well, you, uh," he cleared his throat, "know where to find him."

As they walked to his grave, Prompto spoke up. "Maybe burying him here wasn't the best idea."

"Indeed." Ignis intoned while Gladio gave a grunt of ascent.

Gladio stopped at the tombstone. "Bit late to think about that now, though."

"Hmm."

They all looked at it. It seemed so odd, to be looking at the place where their friend lay, to be looking at him without looking at _him_ , at his face, his body. But it was all they had, now.

"I haven't moved on. I still think about him, all the time. He's always there, in my thoughts."

"Indeed."

"Yeah. I miss him. I mean, he could be a pain in the ass, but he was my friend."

"I can't cook anything without thinking about his smile. Or the way he would pick out his vegetables. The dishes he loved are the ones I find hardest to make. I can't even look at barramundi or break open a chickatrice egg or smell Ulwat berries without thinking of him."

Gladio reached out and placed his hand on Ignis' shoulder. "Yeah. I can't pass by a fishing dock without remembering him standing there hour after hour while we got more and more bored."

"I can't take pictures anymore. It hurts too much." Prompto took out his camera then, and powered it on for the first time in three years. He was almost surprised it still worked. He'd transferred them all over, of course, and kept them on three separate drives just in case, but the camera held the real memories. It automatically went to the last one he'd taken, which was of the four of them at the campfire on their last night. His chest tightened.

Gladio and Ignis crowded behind him and watched as he flicked it back to the begining, and they slowly made their way back through the long journey they'd shared together.


End file.
